


The Hollow

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Angst, Comfort Sex, Derek Has Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Romantic Fluff, stiles is mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 03:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15921646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: Stiles is in mourning and Derek tries to comfort him. Their unspoken love is finally revealed.





	The Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> A little ficlet I wrote on my lunch break because I am kind of sad today.

The air is thick with emotion despite the fresh night breeze filtering in through the open window. It’s the same one through which Derek has crawled only moments earlier.  
Stiles hasn't left his room in a week and for the most part refused visitors. Derek isn't one to take no for an answer. So here he stands, Stiles' shadow.

Derek's index finger lingers in the groove between the ulna and the top of Stile’s arm. The brunette’s gotten skinnier. Derek can tell from the way his t-shirt hangs loose on his small torso.  
Grief does that to people. Grief is something Derek Hale understands all too well.

Stiles’ tousled head hangs low. The dark circles under his eyes shade purple, lids a complementary crimson from the incessant weeping.  
“What can I do?” the wolf whispers. “Tell me.”  
Derek is choking on his desire to take Stiles’ pain away. It’s burning in his throat like his desire to be Stiles’ lover blazes inside him. He wants nothing more than to hug the frail boy and cauterize his agony.

Stiles, back hunched over, white-knuckle grip on his desk, convulses as he sobs. His chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. The desolate feeling, what he knows as the dead weight in his soul, has accompanied him since it happened. Derek advances but then falters. This indecision is torture. Two more fingertips hesitantly find cool flesh. Stiles notices and allows them to remain. It’s the first time he’s felt something in days.    
  
“Why are you here, Derek?” he inquires in a broken voice.

 _Because I love you._ The wolf swallows down the words he wants to utter and babbles instead.  
“Because no one else is. I can perceive your distress and I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be alone, Stiles. No one should be alone at a time like this.”  
  
Derek risks the last two digits and an entire strong hand now gently warms Stiles’ forearm. The boy half turns, mole-speckled cheeks slick with tears. The wolf takes a shy step, moss eyes studying the quivering lips before him.  
“Why are you here, Derek?” Stiles murmurs.  
The tone is different now. He bites into his lower lip and gazes at the wolf, beseeching something.  
“Tell me you love me,” Stiles thinks to himself. “I need you to love me because I have NO ONE.”  
His fixed, empty stare expresses a thousand unspoken wishes.

Derek’s eyes glow red but a moment. Stiles knows, and thus he also comprehends that Derek loves him back.  
“What can I do?” the wolf whispers again, but it’s no longer a question. A pinky traces the moist tracks along Stiles’ nose.  
  
They stand facing each other, barely an inch between them. Derek’s palms glide around Stiles’ ribs and up to his shoulder blades.  
  
“What can I do?” he searches the boy’s gaze for permission.  
The brunette angles in, sighing against him. He finally lets go. “Hold me, Derek. Please. Hold me.”  
Derek’s comforting arms envelope him, taking possession of his slim, trembling body. Stiles falls against him, _into him_ , going limp.  
  
Their hungry lips find each other as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Stiles tastes like he feels… salty with the burden of bereavement. Their cheeks hollow as the kiss deepens, Stiles’ fingers raked into Derek’s dark tresses. He pulls him in. Closer. Urgently. The longing is taking over. Derek breathes through his nose and Stiles whimpers. Four hands roam, tugging on searing skin until clothes start coming off. Stiles walks him to the bed in the corner, and they fall crookedly, almost awkwardly, on top of each other.  
  
Everything after is a blur. Tongues lick, teeth clash. Mouths suck and skin bruises. Eager hands explore… grazing, stroking, penetrating until both men are glistening with sweat and secretions, drunk on the promise of tomorrow.  
Their cries of pleasure fill the dark night like howls on a full moon. Then it's over. They fall asleep, completely spent.  
  
When Stiles wakes up melted with Derek Hale, the wolf’s chest his pillow, he smiles. He smiles like he's only remembered now how to do it.  
Derek grins back, butterfly kissing his warm cheek.   
  
“Love me, Derek,” he begs the wolf. “Don't leave me.”  
Derek exhales, grasping him tighter. "I've loved you since I met you, Stiles."  
The wolf never breaks a promise. "You'll never be alone again."   
  



End file.
